When the Day is Done
by Koinaka
Summary: Dean is in the business of saving the world. Kurt is in the business of saving lives. With the apocalypse looming on the horizon, however, can they save one another from a life of loneliness?


Yes, yes, I know-a new story. I try not to start new stories, but sometimes the plot bunnies won't leave me alone! I just have to give in on occasion. That being said, this is a bit different than I've done before. Also, I'm not a medical professional, nor do I have any real knowledge other than what google has given me. Please remember that as you read this! Also, this takes place during Season 4 of Supernatural, specifically during episode 4.16. For Glee it is AU from Grilled Cheesus. Also the timeline of Glee is all kinds of out of whack. Timeline of Supernatural is as is, however, so Sam is 26 and Dean is 30. Kurt and the other Gleeks are 25.

When the Day is Done

By _Koinaka_

This is how the story went  
I met someone by accident  
who blew me away  
blew me away  
And It was in the darkest of my days  
When you took my sorrow and you took my pain  
And buried them away, you buried them away

I wish I could lay down beside you  
When the day is done  
And wake up to your face against the morning sun  
But like everything I've ever known  
you'll disappear one day  
So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away

—_Adele, Hiding my heart away_

Chapter One

No one ever expected Kurt to go into medicine. Music? Yes. Theater? Definitely. But medicine? Definitely _not_. But after losing his father to a heart attack when he was a junior, Kurt wanted to do something that mattered. He wanted to _help _people. So he had put his considerable mind and ambitions to the task of becoming a doctor—a cardiologist. He graduated McKinley High top of his class with a full-ride to Stanford University.

His four years at Stanford were spent in a flurry of studying, volunteering, and spending time with not only his friends but, for the very first time in his life, with his boyfriends. Medical school was just as hellish as he had expected, but he wouldn't have had it any other way. He was doing something that mattered.

Not that he didn't think singing mattered because he did, but this was different—he was saving _lives_, or he would, when he was finished with all of his training. Besides, he still sang whenever he had a chance albeit this mostly consisted of singing in karaoke bars where the majority of the customers were either drunk, frat boys, fashion blind, or some combination of the three. Most of the time they were so drunk they didn't even notice that he was insulting them with his scathing retorts, or if they did, by the time they were able to figure it out, he was long gone.

He was happy.

Perhaps not exactly the way he used to envision himself being happy. He wasn't starring on Broadway or even starring on off-off-_off -_Broadway like Rachel, and he wasn't pounding the pavement in Los Angeles like Mercedes, but he was happy.

In a way.

Only sometimes…sometimes he felt like maybe something was missing.

Sometimes, like when he came home to his apartment after working a 48-hour shift where the most rewarding thing he'd done was stitch up someone's leg and listen while the on-call attendee berated him and called him "Lady face" Hummel only to find himself being ignored by his persnickety Siamese cat Elphie, he felt lonely.

And it wasn't that he didn't have friends. He did have friends. Only they were other interns, so none of them exactly had the free time to get together for coffee or shop or do any of the things Kurt liked to do.

And it wasn't that he didn't date. He did date. Well, if by dating you meant that he had drinks with attractive men followed by sex—neither Mercedes or Rachel counted that. Santana did, but Kurt wasn't sure if that was a glowing endorsement or a reason to listen to Rachel's countless lectures on "saving yourself for your true love"—but honestly he just didn't have time for all of the pomp and circumstance that dating involved. He had tried to explain this to his friends on numerous occasions, but they were willfully blind in his opinion. His latest conversation with Rachel made that abundantly clear.

"But, Kurt, don't you want romance?" she had asked him, all feigned shock and sadness, when he told her he had no desire to be in a serious relationship.

Kurt had only sighed tiredly. He hadn't even wanted to answer Rachel's call, but he knew better than most she would just keep calling. He was exhausted, and he just didn't have it in him to put on his special "Rachel-filter," so he just said the first thing that popped into his head. "No, Rachel, I want orgasms. As many of them as I can possibly fit in in the ridiculously small amount of time when I'm not in the hospital or asleep."

He had then used her scandalized silence to his advantage and hung up the phone before she could think of a retort. He had had to pay for his little comment when she began sending him links to personal dating websites along with articles about safe sex and statistics regarding gay men and sexually transmitted diseases. He just deleted the e-mail without even bothering to look at the links. He wasn't offended, though he would have been if it had been anyone other than Rachel. She had such poor social skills, it was a wonder she had managed to find a circle of friends in New York City. His assumption was that they were all just as narcissistic as she was, so none of them noticed.

Most of the time he tried to ignore the lonely feeling. It wasn't like he had a lot of time to linger on it anyway. Between actual shifts, on-call shifts, studying, and sleeping, he had very little to himself. When he did have the occasional night off—which was very _very _rare—he would go to the karaoke bar and sing. Contrary to what Rachel and Mercedes thought, he didn't always take someone home, but he did it regularly enough that he didn't feel deprived in that area of his life.

So he couldn't figure out what it was about this life he had created for himself that was starting to feel lacking.

He had a beautifully decorated apartment even if he didn't spend very much time there other than to sleep and shower.

He had landed an internship at Cheyenne Regional Medical Center which had one of the foremost cardiovascular programs in the country. The only downfall there was the fact that it was in Wyoming which was about as far from California as he could get. Seven years of beautiful Palo Alto weather had spoiled him.

He, unlike most interns and residents he met, did _not _have a stack of student loans threatening to suffocate him. That was largely thanks to his father who had had a rather large college fund set aside for him that went untouched because of his scholarship as well as the insurance money he had collected after turning eighteen. Not that he wouldn't have rather had his father in exchange for everything else because he would have taken on _any _amount of debt in order to have saved his father.

Still…he _was _lacking something—even if he wouldn't admit that to anyone. The only question was what.

It wasn't until the middle of January, however, that he started to realize what it was he was missing.

Through some fluke in scheduling, Kurt had found himself with an entire weekend off—an entire forty-eight hour time period in which to do whatever he pleased. It was almost unheard of, unthought-of—for an intern to actually get an entire weekend off which was why he hadn't been too surprised by the page that woke him up ten hours into his free forty-eight hours.

Sleeping for ten hours straight wasn't anything to complain about, so it was a rather cheerful and better looking Kurt than usual that headed to the hospital that morning. Not that Kurt ever looked _terrible_, even as sleep deprived and harried as he often was, he still managed to appear put together—well, as put together as anyone can in scrubs, he supposed.

The hospital was in what Kurt liked to call recovery mode. The morning after a particularly busy night everyone seemed to be in recovery—the nurses were frazzled, the doctors were grouchy, the place was a mess—for a hospital, but still—basically everyone was in a bad temper. Kurt actually liked working when the hospital was in recovery mode. Of course, he liked when he got to observe and learn interesting things, but sometimes it was just nice to do rounds and chart and work on new admissions.

He also liked to interact with the patients unlike some interns. Some interns, he had discovered over the course of the last nearly seven months, hardly even _noticed _that the patients were actually people. To them, they were procedures, diseases, just carriers of the things they could teach them. To Kurt, however, they were people. It wasn't just the patients Kurt liked to interact with; he also liked to interact with the families.

One of the things Kurt could still remember about his father's time in the hospital following his heart attack was the fact that the majority of the medical personnel had not been very compassionate to Kurt, and only one of the nurses, Nurse Nancy, had always been very kind to him, often going out of her way to make sure that Kurt understood what was happening. She had also been the only one that came to his father's funeral after Kurt had been forced to remove his father from life support when it was determined that his father would never regain consciousness.

So it was for that reason that he tried to at least speak to the patients and their family, even if he didn't really have any news for them. He knew first-hand how it felt to be forced to wait for the news on whether or not their loved one would pull through.

According to his chart, the patient in 1022, was not in any immediate danger. Kurt hadn't actually met the patient yet, but according to the over-night intern, the patient was recovering after a vicious beating. He had, however, seen the extremely tall man lingering in the hallway near the room as well as wandering the floor over the duration of his shift. He had also, inadvertently, of course, overheard a conversation between the tall man and another man wearing a horrendous tan trench coat.

Things got busy though, and it wasn't until much later that he had a chance to go and check on the patient in 1022. One of the nurses on duty had expressed some concern because of the man's accelerated heart rate, so Kurt decided to pay the patient a visit. He was nearing the patient's room when he saw the man from before, the man wearing the tan trench coat, exited the room in such a hurry that he ran into Kurt causing Kurt to drop all of the charts in his hands.

"Watch where you're going!" Kurt snapped as he kneeled down to pick up the charts. Upon standing, Kurt realized there was no man there. He looked down one end of the hallway and then the other only to find no trace of the man.

"How odd," he murmured to himself before taking a deep breath and entering the room.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Plant. My name is Dr. Hummel, and I'm one of the interns assigned to your care," Kurt said, studying the chart as he moved through the room. When he looked up, he noticed that the patient was crying.

Not only did he notice that the patient was crying, he noticed that despite the fact that he was bruised and battered, the man was almost ridiculously attractive.

Frowning at both his inappropriate thoughts and man's obvious pain, Kurt set the chart aside and moved closer to the patient. He checked both the man's IV and his monitors. Everything seemed to be in functioning order. He was on a morphine drip, so he really shouldn't be in any pain.

"Mr. Plant, are you in any pain?" he asked.

The man, who obviously hadn't noticed Kurt enter the room if the surprised look on his face was any indication, shook his head gingerly. "'m fine," the man replied in a hoarse voice.

Despite the patient's reassurance that he wasn't in any pain, Kurt was still skeptical. After a quick examination, however, he couldn't find anything to indicate the man _was _in any pain. Combined with the fact that his heart rate seemed to be back to normal, Kurt was forced to take the patient on his word.

"Well, if you're sure," he said, checking the morphine drip one last time. "Don't be a hero, though. There's no shame in admitting you're in pain. Just tell one of the nurses if you do happen to need any more medication. I'll make a note in your chart giving permission to increase the dose as needed."

Kurt wanted to stay longer, and probably would have if he hadn't been paged, so it was with great reluctance that he left the room. He was halfway down the hallway when he was stopped by the tall man he'd seen around the hospital.

"Doctor," the man said, a bit breathlessly when he caught up to Kurt. "Is everything okay with my brother?"

"Your brother?" Kurt asked, his head cocked to the side.

"Yeah. My brother, Robert Plant."

"Your brother is recovering nicely," Kurt assured the man. "He seemed a bit agitated earlier, however, and the nurses told me that his heart rate was accelerated, but when I examined him both seemed to be back to normal. Just try and keep him calm, and if he is in any pain, convince him to let someone know. Pain is the body's way of alerting us that something isn't right."

The man listened attentively, nodding along as Kurt spoke. Something about the way he looked, as if he was on the verge of losing the only person he had in the world, resonated within Kurt.

He hesitated before tearing off one of the pages in the small notepad he always carried around and scribbled down his cell phone number. He was breaking about a dozen rules, he knew, but there was just something about both the patient and his brother that touched Kurt.

"This is my personal phone number," Kurt told the man before pushing the paper into his hand. "If you need anything or have any questions, don't hesitate to call me."

The man smiled widely as he took the paper and pocketed it. "Thanks, Doctor—"

"Hummel," Kurt supplied. "Kurt Hummel."

"I'm Sam," the other man said, extending his hand.

Kurt shook Sam's hand briefly. "I have to go, but like I said before, don't hesitate to contact me for any reason."

He shot Sam a smile before jogging to the nurse's station to answer the page.

.


End file.
